The End of the World
by melissakay
Summary: Is it the end of days for our fave ghosthunting brothers? Looks like it. Holed up in at their local, hiding from a mob of screaming fangirls, the boys ponder unemployment, and Cas ponders getting his leg over...


**The End of the Worl****d**

**(O****r just Supernatural)**

_Rated: M for mild course language, a sex scene and sexual references (most of them by Dean; about Dean's car)_

_Summary: What happens when two ghost-hunters, an angel and a paraplegic lose their only means of income? Is it the end of the world? And what will the fan-girls do when they find out their favourite series is finished? _

_Disclaimer: I don't own the Winchester boys but I wouldn't mind owning that car… anyways, any resemblance to the original series is a complete coincidence. __Also, for the purposes of flow, and just because they're quicker to type, I've chosen to call Jared and Jensen by their character's names, not their real names…_

Sam gulped and made his hand into a fist. 'I'll bet this is about the sugar in his gas tank. I told you he doesn't have much of a sense of humour when it comes to his car.'

'I thought that was hilarious.' Dean replied, frowning.

'Of course you would. It's not your car.'

'Let's just bite the bullet and see, shall we? I mean, you never know, we might not be getting into trouble at all. We might be getting a raise.'

Sam looked doubtful. 'What makes you think that? The solemn way he called us into his office? The pay cuts we've been receiving over the last month and a half?'

Dean shrugged. 'Well… maybe he's been saving up to give us a bonus.'

'You've never been the brains of the operation, have you, bro?' Sam reminded him, condescendingly. 'Unlike you, I don't think this is going to end in good news. To paraphrase Star Wars, I've got a _baaaaad _feeling about this.'

Dean knocked on their producer's door before Sam could stop him and prolong the agony.

'Come in, boys.'

'How did he know it was us?' Dean whispered, looking amazed.

Sam rolled his eyes in exasperation. 'Because he summoned us here, numb-nuts.'

The boys entered the large, plush office and stood like a couple of naughty schoolboys before McG's huge mahogany desk. The back of the man's huge leather chair faced them, hiding everything but his left arm and hand, which held a fat Stogie.

'Ah, Dean and Sam…'

'Um… those are our character's names, Sir.'

'Pfft. That's what I've always called ya, 'n that's what I'll always call ya. Besides, you guys are almost like sons to me after all these years. I made this show, so it's like I _am_ your father, in a fucked up way…'

'But Dude.' Dean interrupted. 'You're black.'

'Oh yeah.' said McG, as if the thought had never occurred to him.

'But enough about that. Bad news, boys. The network's having a bit of a cash-flow problem, so they've had to cut back on operating costs. What that means for us…'

A knock on the door interrupted his spiel.

'God-damn bloody angels…' he muttered to himself. 'Just because they're big on sundials doesn't mean a watch wouldn't go astray.'

'Uh, Sir?' Sam said, as Misha Collins, or Cas, the show's resident angel slipped into the room, late as usual. 'He's not really an angel, you know. That's just the role he plays on the show.'

'I think the old boy's cheese finally slipped off his cracker' Dean whispered into Sam's ear as Misha, (or Cas as we'll call him for convenience's sake and because it's slightly less of a girly name) found a seat to the far left of the boss's desk.

Luckily McG was busy berating Cas for being late so didn't hear the comment about losing his mind. Dean breathed a sigh of relief as poor Cas weathered a torrent of abuse (and spit-bombs), sat down and stared at his well-worn boots. He looked like he needed a stiff drink, but then; Cas _always_ looked like he needed a stiff drink.

'What I was saying to the boys until I was rudely interrupted is, this here season of Supernatural is going to have to be our last. Money's tight and the network has put it's faith in a bunch of teen crap Gossip Girl rip offs like 90210 and Pretty Little Liars. They simply can't afford to keep us going. That jumped-up little twerp who owns CW actually had the nerve to say that the Winchester Boys have gone to hell and back so many times the whole series has gone stale. What would he know; he doesn't even watch our show. I know for a fact that on Monday nights he splurges on his favourite call-girl and a bottle of Dom Perignon – on the company tab, no less.'

'Half his luck' muttered Dean. 'I haven't had any action since People magazine told the world I spend my time trying to nail John Mayer's leftovers.'

'That's _kind_ of like using call-girls.' Cas piped up. 'Except without the having to pay bit.'

'You call yourself an angel?' Dean asked, looking amused.

'Actually, no, I don't. I call myself an out-of-work actor. At least, I will, when this season ends.' Cas reminded him. 'And so will you. Face it boys, we've gotta hit the audition circuit all over again.' He ran a hand through his deliberately messy dark hair. 'Crap. I'm gettin' too old for this.'

'Ah no, not the casting couch _again_.' Dean moaned. 'I'm sick of mouldy old bags who pretend not to know who I am so they can trick me into the sack!'

Sam's jaw dropped. 'They did that to you, too?'

'Me too.' Cas admitted. 'Well, lads… that's it for me, then. I'm hitting my local.'

McG coughed. 'Don't you guys have somewhere to be?'

Sam frowned. 'Um… No?'

'The set!' the producer roared. 'We're not over yet, remember? We've still got half a season to film.'

Cas groaned. 'Oh yeah. Work.'

As soon as the day's work was over, the boys, their faithful sidekick Bobby (sans his wheelchair, cos the actor's not crippled) and Cas all resolved to meet at the pub down the corner from the studio. But before they could leave they were waylaid by a reporter from a rival network, and her camera crew. Dean tried to ignore the fact that she was totally hot, and pushed past.

'What do you want from us?' Sam asked her. 'We're not news.'

'Oh yes you are! My boss told me he heard a rumour that CW is cutting you guys loose! What do you have to say about that?'

Sam jerked his head back, narrowly missing being knocked out by a stray microphone. 'No comment.'

'Is it really true that Season 7 is going to be your last? Or is Supernatural going to wine and dine other networks… like HBO?'

Dean threw himself on the reporters' mercy. Hey, she was hot. 'We don't know anything about that' he told her. 'But I could find out for you. What do you say to dinner, tomorrow night, my place…'

Sam rolled his eyes. 'Excuse him' he said to the reporter, who was busy batting her eyelashes and flicking her blond hair over her shoulder. 'He's always thinking with his other brain. We're off for after-work drinks. _Don't_ try and follow us.'

'Well' said the reporter, haughtily, as Sam dragged his on-screen brother away with one hand, and a drooling Cas with the other (the drool was not due to the reporter; Cas had spotted a bottle of Johnny Walker black label advertised on the side of a truck).

Safely hidden in a booth at the back of their favourite local watering hole, the four main cast members of Supernatural pondered their bleak futures. Especially Bobby who didn't think a bearded, pot-bellied redneck was going to be in great demand, unless he auditioned for a bit part in True Blood. 'I can't believe CW are dropping us.' He bitched. 'What am I going to tell the Missus? No more big retirement plan for us.'

Sam gestured to a waitress, and looked at Bobby. 'What was the big retirement plan? You never told us.'

'We were going to buy us an RV and travel this great country of ours, that's what,' replied Bobby. 'Now that the kids have all moved out, what else are we going to do? Actually _talk_ to each other?'

The waitress, a pretty brunette, hurried over as soon as she saw who her customers were. 'Oh, I just _love_ Supernatural.' She gushed. 'Can I get your autographs?'

'All of us?' asked Bobby. He wasn't as used to being hounded by fans as the others. 'Cool.'

'I can't _wait_ for the new season to start!' the waitress told them, excitedly. 'My BFF and I tape _every_ episode. She _totally_ loves Sam – oh… could you please sign a napkin for her, too? – and she's going to be _so_ jealous that I met y'all.'

Dean grinned up at her. 'So… your friend likes Sam, huh? Who do _you_ like?'

'Actually' said the waitress, blushing. 'I've kind of got a thing for angels.'

'Ooh,' teased Sam, nudging Cas. 'I think you're in, there.'

Cas went as red as a tomato and gave a forced smile, which made him look even more uptight than he already was. 'I'm not the only angel on the show.'

'Oh, but you're the _hottest_' said Dean, batting his eyes at his Huggy-Bear. 'And you _know_ it.'

'Own it, baby' Sam chided, and copped a kick in the shin for his troubles.

The waitress looked a little freaked out. 'You guys aren't… you know…_together_, together, are you? I mean, I know you tease each other on the show, but…'

'Oh we're as straight as arrows, trust me' Sam told her. 'We just like to tease Cas cos he's such a stitched-up prude.'

'I'm not a prude.' Cas protested. 'Just because I don't like to tell you guys _everything _doesn't mean I'm a prude.'

'Prove it' said Dean. 'Give our waitress a kiss, for such great service.'

'She hasn't even served us yet.' Cas pointed out.

The waitress, whose nametag read Marissa, looked like she was about to faint at the prospect of being kissed by a cast member of her favourite TV show.

'Well, when she does, _then_ you can kiss her.' Sam told him. 'And it has to be a big one, on the lips, Gone with the Wind style.'

Cas smiled up at the waitress shyly. 'Is that okay with you? They'll never let me live it down if I don't.'

Marissa fanned herself with both hands. 'Of _course_ it's all right!'

'You're not going to pass out, are you?' Dean asked her. 'Because then our man here would have to give you CPR, as well.' He slapped Cas on the back for emphasis.

The poor girl almost keeled over at the prospect, but changed the subject before she could make a fool of herself. 'What will ya'll be having, tonight?'

After ordering their drinks and a double-cheeseburger, fries and onion rings for Bobby, the boys chewed over the idea of being out-of-work. Suddenly the TV over the counter came on, and lo and behold, there was the blond reporter who'd tried to corner them outside the studio, earlier!

'CW Studios are in crisis, and are facing making cuts that will leave many favourite shows without a viable budget' she was saying. 'Programs like Wildcats and Supernatural may yet be cancelled…'

'Oh great', Sam groaned. 'It's the End of the World as we know it! How are we going to face the fans?'

'Hey, it's not our fault.' Cas reminded him. 'We're victims of circumstance, just as much as the fans are.'

'He's right, you know.' Dean observed. 'We should start a picket line, or something. Make banners and shit. Threaten to halt production of the rest of the season if they don't pull shit like 90210 instead of making _us_ their scapegoat.'

'That's "sacrificial lamb", not scapegoat'. Bobby pointed out.

'Whatever. We've got to show them we mean business! We won't go quietly into the night! We're not about to let a bunch of pencil pushers determine our destiny!' By this point, Dean was standing on the bench seat, and had raised his voice so that the entire bar could hear him. Sam groaned and put his head in his hands. Just when they wanted to stay _out _of the news, here's this cock-knocker, making them front-page fodder!

'Okay man; take a chill-pill, will ya?' Cas pleaded. 'You're not William Wallace, for Christ's sake.'

'They can take our jobs… actually they can't take our jobs either! But they won't take our freedom!' Dean hollered. Bobby looked for a way out, Sam looked embarrassed and Cas just looked thirsty. The moment Marissa brought over their drinks he took his nip of whisky and chugged it in one mouthful.

'He can really hold his liquor,' Dean explained to the wide-eyed waitress. 'Although, if you want any action, you might want to cut him off after three or four of those. Brewer's Droop, you know.'

The waitress blushed deep red. 'Uh… um… I've got to get back to work.'

'Whoa, man, did you see that? She's _totally_ into you.' Dean teased Cas. 'I think you better go and put the girl out of her misery.'

Cas scratched the back of his neck. 'Uh… well…um…'

'Hey, man – if you don't, _I _will. She's a smokin' hot babe.'

'I'm working up to it' Cas assured him. 'Just need more Dutch Courage.'

'Waitress! More drinks, please.'

After about an hour of steady drinking, the boys were almost ready to pay the bill when there was an enormous ruckus outside. Sam peered out the window, but as it was the opaque kind, couldn't see much. 'I think there's a mob outside.' He told the others. 'There's a lot of people out there, from the sounds of things.'

The waitress hurried over. She looked scared. 'Guys… um… I think your fan-club is out there. They're not happy about Supernatural being cancelled. Someone told them you were here. What should I do?'

'Lock all the doors.' Sam told her. 'Those girls are nuts! Last time they got close enough one of them pulled a whole handful of hair out of my head. She told me it was so she could get her uncle, who was a scientist, to use my DNA to create a clone for her own personal use!'

'Wow. That _is _crazy' whistled Marissa. 'What did you do?'

'What _could_ I do? She was seven foot tall and built like a brick shithouse! I wasn't about to argue with her.'

'I'll lock the doors' Marissa assured him. 'But what if they start breaking windows?'

Sam bit his lip; then looked at her. 'Have you got any salt?'

'Isn't this taking the show a little _too_ literally?' Bobby asked, as the boys lined each entry with salt. 'They're not demons, you know. They may be hormone-crazed females, but they're still human.'

'I don't know about that' said Dean, shuddering. 'Did you see the one over by the door to the beer garden? Don't know how she got in there – probably scaled the fence – but she looked like she had a severe case of the pox.'

'She fell into the Poison Ivy near the far wall.' Marissa informed him. 'I saw her go over, about five minutes ago.'

'That Poison Ivy works fast, then.' Cas observed. 'Hey should we line the window panes as well?'

'They're not slugs. They're not going to dissolve if they touch it.' Bobby pointed out.

'Yeah, but they're just crazy enough to take the show literally.' Dean told him. 'Some of them actually think my name is Dean, not Jensen. Forget the fact that sometimes _I_ forget I'm Jensen, not Dean…'

Bobby shook his head. 'Now _I'm_ confused.'

'The other day, I signed Sam Winchester on a bank deposit form.' Sam admitted. 'See? The show ending might actually be a blessing in disguise. We're starting to _become_ our characters.'

'Don't say that' Dean pleaded. 'It's my livelihood we're talking about, here! One season of Smallville does not a career make!'

'Now you sound like Yoda' Cas told him, and giggled.

'Whoa, man. Didn't we tell you six whiskey-sours and a shot of Tequila was your limit?'

'You better snog the waitress before you pass out. You _did _promise her, remember?' Sam reminded him.

'Oh yeah! I did, too, didn't I?'

Dean smirked at Sam. 'At least he's a _happy_ drunk.'

Cas stood up (with a degree of difficulty) and made his way over to the bar. 'Hi, Marissa' he managed to say without slurring. 'I'm a little… tipsy.'

She smiled at him. 'You're a little drunk, you mean.'

'So… do you sssstill want that kiss?'

'That depends.' She said. 'You're not going to slobber all over me, are you?'

'Oh no,' Cas assured her. 'I can hold my liquor, like Dean said. I'm actually a better kisser when I've had a few.'

She looked sceptical. 'Really? Because that's what most guys say about driving when they've had a few too many.'

He grinned at her, and she couldn't help but melt a little, despite the fact that he had to lean on the bar to stop from falling over. He was so cute, with his weird, could-be-blue, could-be-brown eyes, and those lips that she just wanted to suck right off his face…

'Why don't you come over here and I'll show you?' he challenged.

She swung open the gate and beckoned to him. 'No, _you _come _here_! It's quiet out back. The cook's gone home, so it'll be just you and me.'

Cas took her up on her offer, and Dean hooted. 'Ah, come on! You were supposed to kiss her with witnesses.'

'You really want to watch, don't you?' chortled Bobby. 'Methinks _you've_ got a thing for angels, too.'

'Are you calling me gay?' Dean bristled.

Just then, something hit one of the side windows by the jukebox, hard. It left a crack in the glass. But Marissa didn't notice. She was too busy playing tonsil hockey with Cas, while trying to drag him into the privacy of the kitchen.

'God damn' sighed Sam. 'How the hell are we going to get out of here, with those harpies surrounding the place?'

'It's all that reporter's fault. Who told her Supernatural was being cancelled, anyway?' Dean wanted to know. 'Not me, that's for sure.'

'Oh she probably heard a rumour. You know how those journos are. Especially for those Hard Copy type shows. Why bother getting a real scoop when you can make shit up?' Bobby grumbled.

'But she's _not_ making shit up! Face it, man. Our run's over. Trouble is; who's going to break it to our devoted fans?' Dean asked. 'Do you really wanna go out there and face them?'

'They're like vultures, man. They'll tear us to bits.' Sam said. He'd put a table on top of another table and was perched on high, cross-legged like Buddha, just in case the crazed fan girls broke through the barricades. Dean didn't have the heart to tell him they'd probably climb his little fortress like brain-dead zombies looking for skulls to crack, and get to him anyway.

Meanwhile, Marissa had succeeded in getting Cas into the kitchen, and was pashing him madly up against the fridge. Then he lifted her up and swung her around, setting her down on the edge of the sink, Fatal Attraction style. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pushed that ever-present trench coat off his shoulders as he slid his hands inside her skirt and pulled down her underwear. Their kiss got even more intense as the hubbub outside the bar got louder. It was as if the threat of the fan girls breaking in and finding them in a compromising position was making them hornier than ever!

'They're coming in!' Dean yelled from the other side of the door. 'Fall back!'

'He's seen one too many episodes of Spartacus – Blood and Sand' Sam told Bobby.

'He's right though. They're coming. If we don't put something up against those doors, they'll be in here before we can say Dead by Dawn.' Bobby replied. 'Come on! The jukebox is just heavy enough to keep those doors from opening.'

The two men pushed the great heavy jukebox across the floor to the main doors where a flock of fan-girls were drooling and screaming like Robert Pattinson had just shown up. Sam could hardly believe that these were _their _fans, not Twi-hards!

Marissa ran her hands over Cas's chest and shoulders as he kissed her neck and unfastened the buttons on her uniform blouse. Looking up into his dark eyes, she pulled him close to her and unzipped his pants. 'Okay, Angel' she teased. 'Take me to heaven.'

'You _do_ know I'm not really an angel, don't you…' Cas started to say, but he was stopped short by the feel of her hand down his boxers, and closed his eyes.

'I don't care.' She whispered. 'A girl can dream, can't she?'

He gulped as her fingers closed around his shaft. 'Uh… yeah, yeah. Absolutely. Whatever you want.'

'Fall back!' Dean yelled, as the main doors crashed open, pushing the jukebox almost into the middle of the room. A crowd of manic fan-girls entered the main bar, led by a dark haired girl in a pink t-shirt with I Heart Dean emblazoned on the front. Disturbingly, she was touting an axe.

'Hi' said Dean, in a strange, high voice. 'Um… and you guys are?'

'Your fan club', the leader said, rolling her eyes. 'Geez, I can see which of you got all the beauty, and none of the brains.'

'We're not brothers' Sam told her. 'We're not really the Winchesters. It's a TV show. My name is Jared Padalecki, and he's Jensen Ackles.'

'I know that! I'm not stupid!'

'We didn't say you were' Dean replied hurriedly, not liking the way she was brandishing that axe. He held up his hands. 'I guess you heard the news, huh?'

'That Supernatural's ending? Yeah, we heard,' said another fan-girl, a skinny thing with long, lank, mousy brown hair. 'It sucks! Shows like NCIS and House are allowed to go on for fucking _ever_, and Supernatural has to end? It's not fair!'

'Actually, I don't mind House' said Bobby, and copped a scornful look from the skinny fan-girl. 'I didn't say I didn't _like_ House' she replied, icily. 'I just said, it's gone on forever. Seriously, how much mileage can you get out of a grumpy doctor who pops Vicodin like they're Tictacs, and pisses off his patients?'

'Well, if you're gonna go there, how much mileage can you get out of two ghost-hunting brothers, really?' Sam wanted to know, and copped an evil stare even Lilith would have shrunk from.

'Do you want your show to end?'

Sam shrugged. 'Not really, but what can we do?'

'We can protest, that's what!' Pink t-shirt yelled. 'We can put up a real big stink! Just like we did when the network changed timeslots on us three times then pulled the show off air for months! We made them put it back on, and this time, we'll make them _keep_ it on.'

'Yeah!' yelled Skinny Girl. 'Damn straight! Are you with me, girls?'

The pack roared in unison, and before Dean could say Rent-a-Crowd, they were chanting "Hell no, we won't go" at the tops of their lungs. Sam put his hands over his ears and winced.

'This is too damn loud' Dean shouted, barely able to hear himself think over the din. 'I'm getting out of here.'

Sam didn't bother reminding Dean what was going down in the kitchen. He watched his on-screen brother walk through the swinging doors then march straight back out.

'Whoa' he shouted, fanning himself. 'Remind me not to order the chocolate mousse.'

'Why?' Sam asked, cupping a hand around his ear in order to hear Dean over the impromptu protest.

'Because Cas and that cute brunette waitress look like they're auditioning for 9 and ½ Weeks in there.'

'Oh, I've _gotta_ see this.' Sam chortled, and jumped from his tower of tables to the floor. Wrong move, he realised, as soon as he'd made it. The fan girls surged as one, surrounding Dean and Sam like a pack of rabid hyenas, pulling, scratching, caressing and in some cases, licking!

Suddenly there was an almighty BANG.

Everyone stopped what they were doing, and froze, stock-still, their faces turned in the direction of the sound.

A girl with a dark ponytail, dressed in black from head to toe, stood at the door, a menacing looking sawn-off shotgun in her hands, and a scowl on her face.

'_Minna_?' Dean gasped. 'What the fuck are you doing here?'

'That's no way to talk to your Number One fan' she replied, coolly. 'I'm here to save your asses, what do you think? As soon as I saw the news about Supernatural ending, I hightailed it over here. Good thing me and my bestie Bianca were already in the country!'

Sam glanced at Dean. 'You know this girl?'

'Of course,' Dean shrugged. 'I met her at the firing range. She's pretty handy with a gun, by the way.'

Sam gaped in disbelief. 'You go to a firing range? What, is this like a new hobby or something?'

'Well, now that they're taking my Baby away from me, I have to get my jollies somehow.'

'You _do _know you can buy that car.' Sam reminded him. 'I don't think the producers are gonna wanna keep it. Not when they learn what's in the glovebox.'

'What's in the glovebox?' Minna asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

'My spank bank' Dean said, proudly. 'KY jelly, condoms, and for those times when I don't have a lady friend present, a box of tissues, and pictures of my Baby.'

'Your baby?'

'The car.' Sam said, rolling his eyes. 'So… what did you do to make these mad bitches back off? Hit them with a freeze-ray?'

'No. It's just a gun,' said Minna, brandishing it at the fan-girls just in case. She scowled at them, and hissed. 'Back off, skanks,' she said, 'Or I'll start spraying the room with lead.'

'Please don't do that' said Bobby. 'I've already got a metal plate in my head, and an artificial knee. I don't need a full metal skeleton, thank you very much. It's already hard enough to get through the metal detectors at the airport.'

'I'm not going to shoot you, old man. But I will shoot some of these dumb hoes if they don't get their hands off Jared and Jensen.'

'Wow,' breathed Dean. 'That's the first time someone's called me by my real name in, like _ages_.'

By now some of the fan-girls were starting to get the hint, and were letting go of the two TV stars, albeit reluctantly. One girl, who had perched herself on Sam's back and was about to take a chunk out of his neck with her teeth, sighed and kissed him below the ear, instead, and dismounted.

'Thank you', said Sam/Jared, to Minna. 'Things were looking pretty hairy til you came along. I thought these girls were going to devour us whole.'

'Speaking of devouring….' Grinned Dean/Jensen. 'I wonder if Kim Basinger and Mickey Rourke are finished up in there?'

'Huh?' said Minna, not understanding.

'Cas – sorry, Misha – is getting some action.' Jared explained. 'The waitress is a bit of a fan.'

Minna stared at Jensen, her eyes roaming up and down his body, slowly, tantalisingly. 'Can't say I blame her' she said. 'What about it, Gorgeous?'

Jensen watched as the last of his fan-club left the bar, dispirited, but not without giving Minna the evil eye as they passed. Then he gave Minna one of his sexiest grins. 'Sure, why not?'

'Let's go find this Baby of yours.' She suggested; her hand already on his ass. 'I want to see if the seats feel as comfortable as they look on TV.'

Jared sighed and looked toward the kitchen. 'It's gone quiet in there' he told Bobby. 'What do you reckon they're doing?'

'I don't want to know' Bobby laughed. 'They'll come out in their own good time.'

But Jared was sick of the bar and wanted to go home to his own bed. Why weren't there ever any hot chicks that wanted to play 9 and a ½ Weeks with him? Maybe it was because he was so freakishly tall. Most women only came up to the middle of his chest. Rather awkward when you're going for it, standing up!

Pushing on the swinging doors, Jared barged into the kitchen, and paused at the sight before his eyes. The place was a mess. Food was everywhere the eye could see, and in the middle of the culinary destruction lay a very satisfied (and naked) Cas – or Misha – and Marissa, who was lying with her leg slung over his waist.

'Man' Misha sighed. 'If you ever get the chance to shag one of your fans, do it. I highly recommend it.'

'Aaaargggh' Jared groaned. 'You couldn't have told me that five minutes ago, when the room was _full _of them!' He turned away in disgust; then _had_ to have to last word.

'And don't even _think_ about asking me to help clean up in there!'

The End


End file.
